


A letter to Santa, A life to change.

by ArtyMara1992



Category: Santa Clause (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dream based fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hope, Hope vs. Despair, Hot Chocolate, Hurt/Comfort, Letters to Santa, Santa to the rescue, Self-Harm, Some real life added in, new start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 17:05:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10223054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtyMara1992/pseuds/ArtyMara1992
Summary: Sometimes it takes a spot of magical,  a hint of hope and a lot of faith to change a life. Can a letter to Santa help one young woman change her life for the better?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own The Santa Clause, or any recognised characters. Some events are taken from personal experience and may be triggering. The rest is based on a dream I had.   
> Enjoy!

PROLOGUE.

I don’t know what possessed me to write that letter. Not really something you do at 25, write a letter to Santa Clause asking for help. But that’s the funny thing about faith. You never really forget the things that gave you the most comfort at the most trying times. For most of my friends and family it was God or booze they turned to. Me, it was goblin kings, the great mother earth and most importantly Santa Clause.  
But as you get older you let the world convince you to put such beliefs away, locked deep in a little box in your mind. For a lot of people, that box is never opened again. I guess the lock on my box was faulty.  
Because when I hit my lowest point, my box opened and I found myself writing the first letter I had written to Santa in over ten years.  
And I’m so glad I did.


	2. Unexpected trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See prologue

UNEXPECTED JOURNEY 

I’m not one for spur of the moment decisions, so I supreme myself when I decided to get an early morning train to the coast for a long weekend, only pausing long enough to think about it to throw some clothes in my backpack. I didn’t even take my mobile. Just walked to the train station with my bag of clothes , brought a one way ticket to the coast and got on the train.

It was in that grubby little train carriage, sitting next to a snoring business man that I noticed a poster pinned to the wall above the seats in front of me.

It was advertising a Christmas festival. And I was heading straight for it.   
My mind flashed back briefly to the letter I had written 3 weeks before. That to had been completely impulsive.   
I’d had the week from hell. My best friend had been arrested on false charges, I’d been beaten up because my tattoo had offended someone and I found out the one member of my family who had always accepted me just as I was, was dying. I fallen into the old habit, reaching for the blade and relief of cutting. Something that after nearly 10 years I had stopped.

I then wrote a letter to Santa. I know what your thinking. Who self harms then writes to Santa? Me I guess. I supposed I needed to unload and my mind had gone back to my youth to the one person I had believed would never judge me.

Staring at the poster I pondered on the coincidence before pushing it from my mind.


End file.
